— Ananya's POV
The notice came on a Tuesday.
"Inter-College Youth Leadership & Media Summit – Lonavala."
Three days.Workshops.Panels.Competitions.Media houses.Corporate speakers.
Our Mass Media department had selected twelve students.
My name was on the list.
So was Nandini's.
So was Aarush's.
Pihu's department had volunteers going.
Meher wasn't selected.
She didn't need to be.
She read the notice and said quietly, "That place will be full of people who decide futures."
And for the first time, I saw something flicker in her eyes.
Not jealousy.
Concern.
The bus left at 6 a.m.
Sleepy faces.Backpacks.Music leaking from earphones.Mumbai slowly thinning behind us.
Pihu had somehow convinced a coordinator to take her as a volunteer helper.Meher came because she refused to stay back.
"I need air," she said. "Not boardrooms."
Nandini sat near the window with a book.
I sat beside her, notebook on my lap, heart doing a strange restless thing.
Trips always do this to me.
They feel like small lives.
Temporary worlds.
And temporary worlds are where people make permanent mistakes.
The resort was on a slope, surrounded by trees and mist.
There were students from at least fifteen colleges.
Media clubs.Psychology circles.Business societies.
Everyone looked… intentional.
Like they were already becoming.
The first day was workshops.
Content building.Public speaking.Media ethics.Youth leadership.
One session was conducted by a visiting professor from Delhi University.
Dr. Sameer Khanna.
He spoke about voice.
"How young people confuse volume with influence."
"How platforms don't create power — consistency does."
"How attention is rented, but trust is earned."
I filled four pages.
That evening, we were divided into teams.
We were given a task.
Create a live youth-focused campaign in 48 hours. Topic will be given in the morning. Final presentation in front of jury. Best team gets mentorship + funding opportunity.
Funding.
The word buzzed.
This wasn't college fun anymore.
This was real.
At night, there was a bonfire.
Music.Jokes.Students from different colleges mixing.
Pihu instantly made friends.
Aarush was already performing for a small group.
Nandini sat beside me on the steps, quiet as usual.
Meher stood a little away, phone in hand, expression unreadable.
I walked to her.
"You okay?" I asked.
She looked at the fire. "These places," she said, "are where my family finds faces."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Investors. Scouts. Media people. Professors who later become 'connections'," she said.
Then she looked at me.
"And now you're one of the faces."
Something about the way she said it unsettled me.
That night, as we went back to our rooms, I noticed two men in formal wear speaking to our coordinator.
One of them glanced toward our group.
Then toward Meher.
Then away.
I didn't know why my stomach tightened.
But it did.
The topic was revealed the next morning.
"Digital Youth & Emotional Safety."
My heart stuttered.
This was my world.
This was my page.
My thoughts.
My responsibility.
Teams were assigned randomly.
I wasn't with Nandini.
I wasn't with Pihu.
I was with three strangers.
And one familiar face.
Aarush.
We stared at each other.
"Well," he said, "this just got dramatic."
I didn't smile.
Because something inside me knew—
This summit wasn't here to entertain us.
It was here to test us.